athel loren
by cadre
Summary: a short story concerning a troupe of wood elves and thier life within the forest


ATHEL LOREN

Kheron and Desial looked down at the small trail winding its way through the green forest. Their vantage point in the tall tree gave a good view of the trail but due to the twisting nature of Athel Loren and its thick intertwine branches meant visibility was poor however the two elves could sense the mood of the forest from the sighs of the trees and the movement of animals. The forest was restless here and the sensitive way watchers who lived deep with the forest itself had come to see why. Awakened days ago by the forest Kheron had sought out Desial the younger of the pair and they had made all haste toward the northern areas of the forest.  
Dangerous even to the Elves this part of Athel Loren was home to many of the forest creatures some of whom were hostile to all they considered intruders including the Elves, at best these spirits tolerated them at worst it might decide to rip them apart.  
Desial's trio of spites who flew round her head bobbed up and down excitedly and made cooing whistling noises. With one green, one blue and one red the trio of bouncing twirling colours the size of small oranges could be quite dizzying at times.  
"Something's coming?" Desial whispered in a voice so low Kheron with his intense elven hearing barely heard it.  
The male way watcher tied his mid back length red hair with a strip of leather.  
"This way." He replied and leaped to the next branch in the next tree landing lightly and silently, before climbing higher and running across the twisting branches with a skill unmatched by any other save an elf.  
The two ran on jumping from tree to tree whilst spites kept pace and occasionally threw twigs and bundles of leaves (and the odd stone which struck Desials buttock) but made no other attempt to harm them.   
Kheron threw up his hand suddenly and the two stopped dead still their clothes making them blend into the trees perfectly.  
Kherons nose wrinkled with distaste as an odour reached them.  
Human sweat.  
"Men." Desial hissed.  
With what seemed enough noise to shake a mountain though for their kind they probably thought they were being very stealthy the human procession came into sight.  
It was lead by a man in armour which was once probably very shiny but now was dulled and tarnished and covered in blood. His horse a deep soft brown looked tired.  
Six other knights their armour in a similar state followed in single file and behind them around thirty men on foot who looked (and smelt) like they had not bathed in months. Despite their overall appearance they looked alert and were obviously hunting something from the way they urged on into the forest.  
"what are they doing here?" Desial said as she strung her bow. Kheron did likewise.  
"I don't know. But more than just us are watching them." He pointed in four different locations to theirs. Desial squinting could make out the forms of other Elven bodies watching the humans as well, all had bows strung and arrows notched.  
"That's Jesaih's kinband." Kheron said recognising what seemed to be the leader by virtue of two horns poking out the top of his hood.  
"The forest called many of us." Desial said.  
"Indeed" the more experienced Kheron said. "To many for a small force of Bretonnians." He looked down at the invaders and back at Jesaih's force. "Either there is a larger number of Bretonnians following or something else comes." He looked round, something didn't feel right here. Looking at Jesaih he saw he wasn't far off giving the order to shoot.  
"Wait here." He said, before his startled companion could argue Kheron leaped across and jumped from tree to tree, passing within feet of the Bretonnians who never even noticed his passing.  
"Don't shoot." He hissed at Jesaih who was looking at him incredulously.   
"Why not?" Jesiah replied, "Why should we not kill more of their filthy breed?" Like most wood elves (and all other elves for that matter) his opinion of humans was quite low.  
"Because something else comes."  
"What?" Jesiah replied disbelievingly but even so he looked around.  
"The forest would not call this many of us for no reason, especially when it can call upon itself to more effect."  
Jesiah said nothing. Kheron was well known for his affinity with the forest and its ways.  
"What do you suggest we do?" Jesiah asked.  
"We follow them for now. See what happens."  
"Let them go deeper into the forest."  
"They wont live to tell anyone of it if I'm wrong and possibly if I'm right." Kheron answered.  
The Bretonnians had passed on, the Elves were all looking to their leader. Jesiah made the silent code to follow and silently the elves moved out some to the trees some to the ground.

Pierre le Ville Bretonnian knight was bone weary.  
They had pursued their foe under these fey leaves against the wishes of his comrades. Vengeance burned brightly in his heart though and brought new life to his body as it moved with armour that seemed to double in weight each hour.  
"My Lord." His younger brother Gerard spoke up.  
"what is it my brother?" Pierre replied in his strong lilting accent.   
"The men are scared my Lord, all their lives they have heard of the dangers of Athel Loren and now that they under it boughs they feel the eyes of the fey on them."  
"What else do you expect from peasants Gerard. Yet I see fear in your eyes as well."  
"Indeed my lord I too am scared for I too feel the eyes on me."  
"You need to get over the fear of this forest little brother, peasants will be frightened, but we knights have the blessing of the lady. Such things as wood land sprites should hold no terror for us."   
Gerard accepted the rebuke and moved his horse back to the proper distance behind the Lord knight.  
Inwardly Pierre too was worried. More than legends and myths perpetuated the forests, creatures were known to exist here and they did not like intruders. He too could feel eyes upon him.  
Five minutes later the trees exploded around him.

The Elves carried on their pursuit watching the Bretonnians. More than one wished to either turn them back or kill them but they trusted in their leader and their leader trusted in Kheron. Silently the Elves followed their prey and the men remained unaware of their presence.   
As they progressed Kheron began to notice a tenseness building, the forest was steeling itself for something, he felt it in the lessening of a breeze of the leaves ceasing to rustle and the small animals going quiet. The spites were dancing more wildly and more erratically.  
Jesiah held up his hand and the entire troupe some forty elves stopped.   
Desial's spites were going mad, bouncing so fast in front of Desial's eyes she couldn't see past them because of the blur.  
"what is it?" She asked.  
"It comes." Kheron said.

The tearing of bushes, the braying of unnatural horrors, the scream of horses and coarse shouts of men brought the elves up short. Each one of them knew the sounds of the bray, the beasts of chaos were once again in the forest of Athel Loren.  
Nothing not man not dwarf not Orc incited the Wood Elves more than the arrival of the Beastmen those twisted mutants of Chaos who sought only to destroy for the sake of it. Every face grew grim, swords were loosened in scabbards arrows drawn and notched as the wood Elves prepared for the assault.  
Jesiah held up his hand once more to stop them.  
"we are not going to join the battle?" one elf asked.  
"On whose side?" Jesiah answered. The elf looked lost.  
"If we side with the humans then they could turn on us. If we side with neither then we risk both of them turning on us." Jesiah  
"The Bretonnians have honour they would not side with Chaos." Kheron was quick to interject. "If we fought beside them."  
"Bah." Jesiah snorted. "Let us watch how this plays out."

Men screamed, horses screamed monsters brayed. Six foot beasts with the heads of goats and sheep twisted to hideous proportions hacked and slashed at the Bretonnian line. The peasantry fought with skill less savagery using their halberds to slash and stab their opponents back. The Gors better fighters in all but hampered by the large shields wielded by their opponents.  
Pierre, Gerard and the other seven other knights fought furiously spitting their opponents on their end of their lances. Once those had been splintered or skewered bright shining swords were drawn. Their magnificent war horses reared and lashed out with their hooves. Pierre's own horse Fluer crushed two Gor skulls, brain matter splattering all over the beasts legs as the two limp bodies went flying backward landing in heaps on the floor. On top of them crashed a peasant warrior his entrails spilling out before him an Ungor already stooping to tear into his flesh.  
Gerard's sword slashed out the bright blade catching a sudden stream of sunlight as the trees above seemed to open onto the knights. The blade whistled down striking deep into the throat of another beast taking its head from its body in a stream of blood and gore that drenched Gerard's already dulled armour More sunlight broke above the canopy, bathing the battlefield in its golden light. The beasts looked around them worriedly some shielding their eyes from the heavy glare.  
The men however took heart.  
"a sign." Pierre shouted, "A sign from the lady of the lake." He waved his family blade into the air and pointed it straight up sunlight gleamed from the blade and he looked even in his battered armour every inch the noble knight he was.  
A large Gor smashed his axe into him.  
Pierre was knocked back off his horse hitting the ground hard a tree root nearly snapping his spine. He rolled backwards his faith in his lady sustaining him as another blow landed across his helm. He got to one knee as another blow was aimed at him, the axe whistled down and Pierre barely managed to get his sword in time to parry, the power behind the blow sent the sword skitting from his hands to land several feet away.  
Time seemed to slow for Pierre then, he turned to face the Gor, horns, spiralling above its head, drool running from its lips onto its matted fur chest, a green coloured substance slid freely from its cow shaped nostril.  
Pierre blanched at the fetid breath coupled with the monsters strong body odour as it snarled in his face. He stared at the creature as impossibly slowly it seemed the beast lifted its already bloodstained weapon for the kill.  
Pierre saw a shadowy form drop a couple of feet behind the Gor. It landed lightly silently and raised its weapon a bow almost six feet long a deadly what looked like bronze tipped arrow fitted,  
Time began to play at the proper speed again. The Gor thudded and staggered forward a step. It span around a green fletched arrow imbedded in its back, a second arrow thudded into it throat, and it staggered back toward Pierre its mouth emitting a strange gargling noise. Leaping to his feet Pierre drew his dagger and plunged it deep into creatures side pulling it down to the forest floor and ripping his blade clear in a spray of blood.  
Pierre stood and looked at his benefactor.

Kheron too looked at the knight whose life he had just saved. And might decide to take it at the end of this fight.  
But for now allies. The opening of the forest to the sun showed the forests intent to the elves and they had joined the battle. Twirling away his forest green cloak flapping in his wake the elf was gone. 

Pierre retrieved his word and looked around, seemingly springing out of the trees themselves, the elves were launching a flurry of deadly shafts into the Beastmen felling them by the dozen. With seemingly casual grace they leapt into the fore lashing out with their fine leaf blades cutting into the decadent flesh of the enemy before leaping back out of the way.  
"The lady of the lake is with us." Pierre heard Gerard shouting rallying the men who were obviously on the verge of breaking. Several of them were down blood and flesh pooling on the forest floor. The others were looking around them looking a route in which to flee, unsure of the elves and if they would turn on them as well.  
One of the knights was pulled from the saddle by three Gors their axes and brutal swords raising and hacking into his armour splitting and his end painful and thankfully quick.  
Two other knights fought back to back against a quartet of foes, their swords flashing as desperately they sought an opening. This was brought about by two elves launching their arrows unerringly into the throats and then chests of two of the Beastmen respectively. With two of their adversaries down the two knights launched into their foe with abandon.  
Dismayed at the turn of events the Beastmen began to back track toward a large central leader figure who so far had hacked down four elves six men at arms and a knight. His maw was stained with blood and the two massive cleavers he carried dripped with gore from his kills the blood of elves and men mixing and running down the blade over its gnarled hands and onto the dirt. His horns were particularly large rising over a foot above his head taking his overall height to almost nine feet. The beasts red and brown frame rippled with corded muscle, three broken arrow shafts protruded from his frame but it seemed not to notice. It waved an arm in the direction of the human and Elven line and the beasts began to regroup slowly at first but with rapid order when the leader lopped the head of one Gor that seemed to be dragging his hooves.

Jesiah leaped forward drawing two swords from his back one of which glowed with a faint light. He landed beside Pierre and looked at the human that was all at once, disgust, amusement, excitement and respect.   
"Can you fight on?" He asked his lip curling in sneer.  
"I can." Pierre replied grimly hefting his sword defiantly. Not entirely sure of this crazed looking creature of the forests intentions.  
"Good because that big one will take the two of us to bring down."   
Pierre started, the elf didn't like him that much was clear yet here he was allowing Pierre a part of his personal combat. The Bretonnian was both honoured and insulted at the same time.  
"For the Lord and Lady of the Forest." Jesiah shouted in challenge at the creature as its comrades began once more to come at the Bretonnian line braving the arrows the Elves and human squires pumped into their ranks.  
"for the honour of the lady of the lake." Pierre responded in kind.  
The beast seeing them and seeing their course roared its own challenge probably to some vile god and charged, Jesiah and Pierre matched suit.

Kheron and Desial drew their blades as the monsters closed, the sharp Elven made weapon would make short work of the Beastmen and the Elves natural quickness over their foe would help against the beastmens greater strength and savagery.  
Kheron darted left his blade dancing out catching a Beastmen just above his knee and driving the point in beneath the skin. With a howl the Ungor toppled over and Desial finished him of as Kheron closed with yet another of the herd.  
Elves and men fought side by side and yet apart. Where one fell it was another of their race that helped back up or pulled them back, the wounded were left on the ground and if a man fell then an elf was all to ready to stand on him pressing feet into wound and vice versa. There was no camaraderie no congratulations from one another to a well placed blow, they fought and died side by side but might well have been on different continents.

Jesiah and Pierre had some of the camaraderie missing from the others. Forced into a brutal conflict with the Wargor they had to protect each other as best they could putting out the screams of the wounded and the brays of beast as they made their kills into soft Elven and human flesh who drank their blood and tasted the salt of their meats eagerly.  
The Wargor lashed out toward Pierre who intercepted on his sword the impact jarring his arm as the last blows had done the strength of the beast was formidable. Jesiah slimmer and not as psychically powerful as the human didn't try to block but weaved and dodged each strike or deflected them as best he could his twin blades darting out to hit the monster and gently almost delicately cut into his flesh, black blood ran from several wound on the creature but none were fatal and few were serious. Even so the creature did not seem to mind the pain, each cut only stirred it on even further its cleavers hacking out and attempting to smash bodies with almost reckless abandon. But it was a skilled fighter for all its bulk and lumbering movements and it could fight off it twin opponents with difficulty but could do it none the less. Its roaring was constant and grating, its sheer brute force daunting, but still the two fought on for that opening hoping for that small opening that would allow a lethal plunge home into the beast.

Desials spites were hounding her enemies with their buzzing antics distracting them long enough for her to rack up her fourth kill of the battle. She had become separated from Kheron some time ago and now fought sword and dagger against the herd which was dwindling.   
The human forces were all but gone at this stage only twelve men at arms remained standing and four knights. The Elves had lost nearly a quater of their number. Nimbly blocking a clumsy spear thrust she leapt forward within its range and planted her dagger into the creatures chest. The Ungor stopped suddenly and looked stupidly down at the finely wrought hilt sticking out of its breast.  
Desial's spites flittered around her head excitedly, as she withdrew her blade. She did not understand until it was too late, and a jagged brutal sword plunged into her side tearing up through her ribs and both lungs.  
Desial tried to say something looking to the left at the sword blade.  
She opened her mouth to speak but all that came was a quiet gurgle and a stream of her own life bloods, pattering down onto her chest. She fell to her knees her blades falling from her hands.  
Her hair was grabbed from behind her head jerked back, strangely there was no pain at all merely a quiet sense of losing oneself in a warm bed as if she was drifting off to sleep. She felt the coarse rough hair of the beast as its head dove down around her face its maw opening to catch her throat its tongue roaming her lower face eagerly tasting her blood.  
The Gor bit.  
Desial didn't feel the pain of the creatures teeth puncturing her skin mere felt/heard a crunch, and then there no more save a simple sliding into oblivion.

Kheron did not see Desial fall, he fought on oblivious, the old way watcher having seen battle scores of times in life. Always he felt the same rush the same exultation of a blow felling the life from a foe. The years would fall away of him during the fight the thrill of battle intoxicating him to the point where his awareness was at his most heightened. His blade, his form, his dance all a weave of death. 

Jesiah dove low a plan forming in his mind as his attacks were foiled again and again by the Wargor. Sweeping low to his foe, his sword arched out the point driving deep as Jesiah went to his knees. The blade entered behind the creatures knee into the soft spot where the bones met. It lanced out the other side shearing off half the knees cap. The Wargor screamed in genuine pain its cleaver shearing down.   
"Elf." Pierre shouted a warning.  
Too late.  
Too late came the shout.  
Too late did Jesiah see the blade descend  
Too late to dodge.  
The cleaver did its work into Jesiah's chest as the Wargor fell on its crippled knee. Jesiah was thrown to the ground, the massive weapon clinging to his chest. He tumbled backwards on his back. The Wargor fell as well straight onto his injured knee which responded with a sickening crunch as a sharp snap as the sword broke.  
Pierre went to the Elf and knelt beside him, the wound was deep and definitely fatal.  
Jesiah tried to speak but all that came out was a pain choked gargle, Pierre cradled the Elf's head and tried to make out what was said. But he could not speak the Elven tongue and he died without having his last words understood.  
Pierre stood and grasped the hilt of the broken sword and turned to face the Wargor which was shockingly regaining its feet. Blood poured from the wound and bone protruded from it but still hate drove the creature onward and it glared down at the human knight facing him.  
Pierre gave the creature a knights salute and charged.  
Minus a weapon and barely able to stand, the Wargor still stood ready to receive the knight.  
The fight was over in seconds. Accepting the hit from the cleaver on his breast plate, Pierre brought the broken hilt of the sword and rammed upwards with all his strength slamming the metal into the creatures mouth and upwards into its brain. They seemed frozen for a second Pierre and the Wargor locked brutally together, then the Wargor leaned back slightly and over balanced itself landing flat on its rump and then on its back.  
Pierre Bretonnian knight did not hesitate, bringing up his sword, he inverted it and plunged it point first into the creatures chest slamming it home with all his strength driving it in deep making sure he the things black heart.

That did it for the rest of the herd only their fright of their leader kept them in the fight without him the herd crumbled, barely a half dozen of them still stood and these now turned and fled into the forest. Some of the Elves made to pursue.  
"Wait." Kheron stopped them with an upraised. "they wont get far the forest will consume them."  
The others stopped and perused the carnage. Twenty seven elves were dead of the forty three who had begun the battle, of those still alive not one was unscathed and three had to be carried by their friends. The Bretonnians had lost nearly their entire force, only three knights including Pierre and Gerard remained standing. Only six peasants still stood on their feet and one of the squires and he had a lump of coarse cloth torn from the dead over one hand where he used to have five fingers and now only had two.

Pierre stepped toward Kheron recognising the elf who had saved him first. He held out the hilt of the broken blade of the elf who had fought beside him.  
"keep it." Kheron said.  
Pierre bowed.  
"The blade of this noble elf will find honour in my home, he was a great warrior."  
"his name was Jesiah." Kheron replied. "His blade is worthless as it is broken but then you humans have strange notions. We will honour his memory in our hearts and in the trees."  
Pierre nodded.  
"you should leave now." Kheron said, "You have been given passage back through the forest but you are not welcome here."  
"We have wounded." Gerard said coming forward clutching his arm where blood was seeping through.  
"then you should not tarry." Kheron said. "We have our own wounded ."   
"Why did you help us?" The third knight asked after ordering the men at arms to ready them selves for the march home.  
"We did not help you." Kheron said his eyes slitting in impatience to be away. "We just happened to have the same enemy. Now go Knights of Bretonnia."  
Pierre then realised that all the elves save this one had gone melting back into trees it was if they had never been there.  
"goodbye knight." Kheron said. "Follow the path it will lead you out of the forest though it may not be where you came in from. Look ahead human not behind." He turned to go Desials spites dancing round his head now except they were all a dull purple colour almost in mourning.  
"We will not meet again knight." Kheron spoke once more. "If we do I will be the last thing you ever see."  
The third knight moved as if to draw his sword at this threat but Gerard stopped him hurriedly. You did not need to be a wizard to know that they were being carefully watched.  
"Come on brother." Pierre said, "We are not wanted here."  
"What of the dead?" The other knight asked  
"Bring our noble knights on their horses leave the peasantry where they are I will not sully myself bringing them." Pierre mounted his horse and gently and almost reverently placed the half sword that was Jesiah's sword into his belt.

Those who remained of the knights marched out, the peasantry followed after scavenging the dead for anything remotely valuable. No one touched the dead of the elves.  
And they did not look back for the journey home.

Kheron watched the humans leave, he would never understand them and their strange ways. They sought to conquer and destroy that which they didn't understand, yet they were also capable of honour and justice and unwavering loyalty. With their short lived lives they crammed centuries of love and hate and violence as they could within the time allotted to them.  
Theirs however was not his concern. He began the trek back to his own personal little grove alone now, Jesiah's kinband would return in time to bury their leader but he would leave Desial for the forest to claim in its own right.  
Something stirred in the air and he stopped cocking his head to one side, listening to the quiet forest voices on the air.  
He turned about, restrung his bow and loosened his sword in his scabbard.  
Unfortunately for the knights the forest capricious and violent had changed its mind……………………………….


End file.
